Because He Was a Boy
by marchofthedeathangels
Summary: No one would believe he had these problems, because he was a boy.


_**an; wow I just keep getting inspiration from depressing poems tonight. heres one that I think is maybe? halfway decent. because boys can be sad too.**_ _**again, I don't own the poem in bold :)**_

**He didn't share his feelings,**

**Because he was told that was "gay".**

"Derrick, what's wrong with you? You're shit today." Dempsey shook his head at Derrick in disgust as they headed into the locker room to change.

"Seriously man, what's your problem?" Plovert squinted his eyes at Derrick, waiting along with the rest of the team for an answer.

"You're supposed to be the best player on the team." Kemp threw his arms out as if to say _what the fuck_.

Derrick felt the heavy lead weight that seemed to be in his chest grow larger. Maybe, just maybe it would be good for him to talk about it.

"Guys, I just don't know what's wrong with me lately. I just don't feel like doing anything, and I'm always so.." Derrick trailed off as the majority of the team bursted into laughter and snickering.

"Geez Derrick, what are you, gay?" Plovert snorted, shaking his head.

Derrick felt an empty space inside him. "I'm just messing around. I'm sure it's nothing."

Now at least he knew not to speak to anyone about how he felt.

**He didn't tell his parents why**

**He was always falling asleep in class,**

**They would just say he was "partying",**

**When it was just insomnia.**

"Mr. Harrington!" Derrick jerked awake to the sound of his second hour teachers voice. "Are you still with us?"

Derrick slowly nodded his head, trying to shake off his exhaustion.

The teacher gave him a steely look. "If I catch you asleep one more time I'm sending you to Principle Burns. Understand?"

But Derrick had already fallen back asleep. He was woken up and sent to Principle Burns, who wasn't too pleased.

"Derrick, what is with you lately? Your grades have been slipping, your performance on the soccer team is lacking and your in threat of being kicked off because of your grades, now you're falling asleep in class? What is with you? I s everything okay? Are you alright?"

Derrick chuckled. He wasn't okay and he wasn't alright. When he didn't say anything more Principle Burns sighed, wrote him a deytention slip, and sent him back to class.

When he got home, he told his parents about the detention he had received. His dad laughed.

"Ah, better quit all that partying huh D?" His dad laughed once more, and continued eating.

Derrick wasn't very hungry after that.

**He didn't tell his friend that he cries**

**Himself to sleep,**

**He would just say crying is for "girls.**

Derrick was uncharacteristically silent, and Cam took notice of it.

"Derrick, whats up? You okay?" Cam asked, looking at his friend in concern.

_He won't understand. He probably thinks crying is for girls. He wouldn't understand the only way I fall asleep is to the lullaby of my own tears._ Derrick thought.

"Just tired." Derrick spoke aloud.

"You're always tired." Cam grumbled, but dropped the subject.

**He didn't tell his doctor that he stopped eating,**

**People told him**

**Boys "don't" get anorexia.**

"Alright, anything about your health that concerns you?" Doctor Merrit asked Derrick at his regular check up.

_Boys don't get anorexia, that's just not how the world works. _Derrick remembered his older brothers words, spoken to Derrick after he had hasked his brother about anorexia.

Even though it had been about three days since he had eaten anything, and about two weeks since he had eaten a proper meal, his brothers words resonated in his mind.

_Boys don't get anorexia._

_Boys don't get anorexia._

_Boys._

_Don't._

_Get._

_A_

_N_

_O_

_R_

_E_

_X_

_I_

_A_

"No, nothing I can think of." Derrick replied, ignoring his mothers worried look of concern. Nothing at all.

**He didn't tell his brother**

**About the failed suicide,**

**Because he wasn't his "sister".**

**But he was more broken**

**Than her.**

It was eleven thirty two at night and Derrick had just thrown up a ton of pills that were supposed to make him die, but instead made him violently ill. He had tried to kill himself, but he hadn't succeeded. He failed.

Why couldn't he die? Why was the universe making him live in such a horrible world where he felt nothing. Literally nothing. It drove him insane, for when he didn't feel nothing, he felt searing pain and loneliness.

He had pretty much forgotten what happiness and any positive emotion felt like at this point.

But it wasn't like there were many positive emotions to feel anyways. Think about it, all positive has is happiness, excitement, gratitude, and thankfulness. Negative emotions include depression sadness, anxiety, anger, hopelessness, loneliness, embarrassment, and more. Was there even such a thing as happiness anymore?

Derrick knew he couldn't tell anyone about his failed suicide attempt. He wasn't his sister, who attempted suicide around a year ago. He was a boy. Besides, she tried killing herself because some boy didn't want to go out with her. If he told his brother he tried to kill himself, then he would think it was for some weak, pathetic reason. Not because Derrick just wanted a way out of this blank empty painful nothingness called life.

At this point Derrick knew he was more broken than his sister ever was.

**He didn't tell anyone about**

**The lines on his skin**

**From the razor in his back pocket,**

**Because no one would believe he had these problems,**

**Because he was a boy.**

Derrick sat in his room with a glazed over expression, staring at the perfectly disastrous crooked lines with crimson liquid beading over them. He stared in wonder at the line, wondering how something so beautiful was so terrible. It was his own personal addiction, slicing into his skin just to see the red liquid slowly spill out of his veins and onto his pale skin. A perfect contrast, a bright red against a pale canvas. So tragically beautiful, so terribly wrong. All at the same time.

Someone knocked on his door and Derrick panicked, quickly dabbing the blood off his cuts and shoving on a dark blue hoodie, and because he had nowhere else to put it, he shoved the razor in his back pocket.

"Dinners ready." His mom poked her head through the door, not questioning why Derrick looked so pale, frazzled and exhausted with dark circles under his eyes.

"I'm not hungry." Derrick mumbled, ignoring the severe hunger pains he had.

"I made your favorite. Mostaccioli." His mom's face fell.

"Sorry." Derrick muttered.

For a second, it looked like his mom was going to say something.

_Come on mom. You know me. I don't turn down dinner just like that. You've got to know somethings wrong with me. Please mom, I can't say it myself. Please, please notice I'm not okay and I want to die._

"Alright then. Goodnight honey. I love you." She shut the door behind her.

Yet to Derrick, it felt more like she had shut the door to his only lifeline.

_You know, she probably thinks I'm okay because I'm a boy. And boys don't get sad._

**_All his life he learned_**

**That since he was a boy,**

**And not a girl,**

**If he would tell someone**

**He would be made fun of.**

**Boys cry.**

**Boys get anorexia.**

**Boys self harm.**

**Boys can be insecure.**

**Boys can attempt suicide.**

**Boys can succeed. **

_**I should probably stop reading depressing poems huh. oh well, as long as it gives me inspiration right?**_

_**review your thoughts :)**_


End file.
